


Appearance Is (Not) Everything

by ufp13



Category: E.R.
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-20
Updated: 2011-10-20
Packaged: 2017-11-09 15:12:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/456901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ufp13/pseuds/ufp13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>just a glimpse into her thoughts</p>
            </blockquote>





	Appearance Is (Not) Everything

B.I.T.C.H. She could clearly read it in the eyes – any eyes, every eyes, no matter where she looked. Unable to stand it any longer, she averted her gaze. It pained her pride to give in, to surrender, but her heart couldn’t take more. It hurt, bled. The whole day, she had done her best to hold her head high, to remain outwardly in charge of her emotions. Not an easy task to accomplish for funerals always got to her since the death of her younger son. She dreaded these occasions, dreaded them for being a reminder of the wound that didn’t seem to heal. To uphold a façade to hide behind was all she could do in order to save her dignity, to save her family the embarrassment of her breakdown. However, it appeared that they didn’t appreciate her effort. For a brief moment, she had considered giving in to the emotions that threatened to overwhelm her, to give the people what they seemed crave, but she very soon decided she couldn’t do it, simply because she expected more, better from herself. A woman of her social status had to behave in a certain, dignified way, must not be submissive to her feelings, must not let them rule her. That’s what she had been taught, and her upbringing was nothing she could change. It was implanted in her mind, coloured her behaviour, reigned her actions. As much as she longed to in the light of other people’s dismissive, accusing glances, she couldn’t hate herself for being who she was. The main reason might be that she knew she wasn’t as void of emotions as people thought she was. Quite the contrary. It required a massive amount of strength to display the calmness, the detachment that she did. At night, though, when she was alone, her husband long since not wishing to share the bed with her, she lowered those barriers, allowed the emotions to take over, to carry her away.

She would give a lot to feel Jack’s arms around her at night again, to have him hold her, to soothe the storms of emotions that raged within her, to kiss the tears off her cheeks. However, she had given up hope of this ever happening again. It would require her doing something she couldn’t, had been taught not to – to ask something for herself. She had no quarrels asking people to do something, to do something for anybody who wasn’t her. Even when using the phrase “do me the favour and…”, she wasn’t requesting something to be done for her personally. In the past, Jack used to know, to sense what she needed and gave it to her without her having to voice her wish, be it advice or his touch. Now, though, he had distanced himself from her, either had cut his connection with her, didn’t sense her anymore, or refused to grant her what she craved. It hurt. His coldness hurt, the absence of his touch, of his smile. And by this day, she wasn’t sure he would grace her with either one even if she gathered all her strength and asked for it.

What hurt even more, however, was the repudiative behaviour of her oldest, her only son left. Standing right next to him, it felt as if there was a whole continent between them; whenever possible he put as much distance between them as he could, as still appropriate. From others, she could take it, but her own flesh and blood despising her was too much. Her heart translated it into her being unlovable. Who could love someone who was hated by her child?

What had she done to deserve all these cold shoulders? Maybe the correct question should be what she had not done. But having done all she could, all she was capable of, she was at a loss.

It was a devious circle. She gathered her strength, reached out, was misunderstood and rejected, the person increased the distance between them, she had even less strength to make the way. Without help, without someone guiding her, aiding her, she doubted she would ever make it, would ever bridge the rift between her loved ones and herself. But who would make the effort to see behind the façade? Who would reach out to a woman who others had labelled ‘bitch’ in capital letters over and over again?

She took a breath as deep as possible without it being recognised as the deep breath, the sigh it was and raised her eyes again. It wouldn’t do for a lady to get lost in self-pity in public.

 

= End =


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